| A Cottage by the Sea |
|
 Betsy Thompson I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December A magical thing And sweet to remember. “We are nearer to Spring Than we were in September,” I heard a bird sing In the dark of December by Oliver Herford
0 Comments
 Have you noticed that everyone needs to tell their 2020 Thanksgiving story? It’s part of the glue holding us all together, perhaps usurping any discussion of the weather. Of course, we’ll move onto Hanukkah and Christmas and then, who knows what the next topic will be! Perhaps our particular vaccine story, but of course that could be emotional. Thanksgiving, however, is universal and non-political. And so, I offer mine.
We ordered from Longfellow’s Wayside Inn: delicious New England Clam Chowder, turkey, mashed potatoes, squash, stuffing, gravy, and a pumpkin pie. It was advertised as a meal serving eight to ten people. We had only four, my husband and me, and our son and daughter-in-law, but the Inn’s website reminded us, we could always enjoy the leftovers. And that, we are still doing! I’m grateful for the meal but also for the ease that I felt as I set the table and cleaned up. Enough, as far as I was concerned, for any person on a given day. I’m grateful because I was relaxed, as were the other three celebrating with me. I think we all noticed that in ourselves and in one another.  Take by my dad during our trip. NOT a picture of me. I am feeling deeply content with my solitude these days. The pandemic has taken away the need for a calendar, and I love that. Oh, I have things to do and people to keep up with, but most of these lend themselves to solitude. And so, I’ve been thinking about how I loved those cottage days, with weekday after weekday to be filled by my whim.
But a new memory has appeared, of me, age 19 riding a bike along a country road in Norway. My parents, sister, and I were staying at an inn somewhere in the countryside and my parents had agreed that I could rent a bike and take a ride by myself. Looking back, this may be my first memory as a ‘adult’ of taking off independently. For years my parents had let me bike all over town, both alone and with friends, so that wasn’t new, but biking alone in a foreign country was. I remember talking with my parents about it and then encouraging myself to actually get on the bike and take off. I recall biking on a flat road along a lake and after a half hour or so deciding I’d better turn back so no one would worry about me. I, however, was not worried or afraid, and that freedom has remained with me throughout all my solitary travel. What brought this memory forth, this memory which is now so visceral? I’ve been reading The Storm Sister, the second in a series by Lucinda Riley, about a young woman who searches for her roots in Norway. This has led me to start rereading (slowly, one chapter a day) Astrid & Veronika, by my absolute favorite author, Linda Olsson, about two women, one young, one old, each living alone in rural Sweden, who develop a friendship. Why these books? I come back full circle for this love of solitude.  Iona 2014 Winter is setting in; so is the pandemic; so are we. I’m thinking it is time to decide upon some principle to guide me through the days to come-- an attitude to keep me positive, hopeful, and purposeful. I trust that this will be easier for those of us who love silence, solitude, and simplicity, but we’re not off the hook. Negativity, despair, and futility are waiting right around the corner.
How I start my day has always made an appreciable difference in how the rest of day goes for me. So, I will begin each day recommitting myself to remember what is best about me. • Remember to live a life of gratitude. • Remember that I am a person who is optimistic, who sees positive possibilities. • Remember to live my mission: to inspire, affirm, and encourage others. And then live the rest of the day accordingly.  Eleven years ago, on a Monday, I woke up for my first morning at my cottage by the sea, the cottage I would rent for the next five winters. Ten years ago, on November 20, 2010 I started this blog. I thought carefully before deciding what it would be about: A blog for those who are looking for silence, solitude and simplicity, and who sometimes want to be alone. As I look back, I’m surprise at that choice because at the time I wasn’t conscious of that longing. I always had friends and like to do things socially—I still do. But as I reminisce, which I do more and more as I get older, my memories, all very visual, are of me happily alone—playing in the woods and in my bedroom, spying on the apartments across the street from my Grandmother’s Brooklyn apartment, walking the streets of Florence when I was there in college…. From time to time friends appear, but what matters, is that I am in my own solitary world. So, here is to a few of those morning sunrises!  Keeping connected! An important theme during these intense times, even for those of us who like silence, solitude, and simplicity and sometimes like to be alone. This weekend I’ve been writing notes on ‘Keeping Connected’ postcards that my church is sending out to members.
“But what about my close, close friends?” I ask myself. Being a self-contained person, content with my own companionship, I can easily slip into my own world and be peaceful. Fine for me, but not always the way I want to be for my friends, without whom I wouldn’t have this comfort. In some ways we can take our friendships for granted. We know we will be there for one another. But that’s not an excuse for sliding off the daily radar screen. So, I apologize for not keeping connected as personally as I want to be. In truth, I am apologizing more to myself than to you. And so, I forgive myself. The gifts we give each other help us be our best selves.  Where have I been this election week? Where have you been? I’m referring to our longing for silence, solitude, and simplicity. Has it gone away?
I’ve been immersed in this election for many reasons, but the one I want to emphasize here has to do with the purpose of this blog. I want every citizen to have the privilege to turn to times of silence, solitude, and simplicity. I have faith that Joe Biden and Kamala Harris want and will work for everyone to have these kinds of personal choices. They understand that if you are worried about enough food on the table, a roof over your head, or your health care, it is hard to settle into silence, solitude, and simplicity. Progress won’t to be easy, but their hearts are open for all people, and that’s a good start.  Our true nature is stillness,
The Source from which we come. . . . . The deep listening of pure contemplation Is the path to stillness. All words disappear into It, And all creation awakens to the delight of Just Being. —Thomas Keating, “Stillness”  A big thank you to my son-in-law, who besides raking our lawn, gave me a twenty-one page printout of Rumi quotes. I had planned to pick some favorites to help us through the upcoming days, but the first ten fulfilled that plan, so here they are. Thank you, Rumi.
• These pains you feel are messengers. Listen to them. • We carry inside us the wonders we seek outside us. • Only from the heart can you touch the sky. • Wherever you are, and whatever you do, be in love. • Your heart knows the way. Run in that direction. • Stop acting so small. You are the universe in ecstatic motion. • Love is the bridge between you and everything. • Keep silent because the world of silence is a vast fullness. • When will you begin that long journey into yourself? • You are not a drop in the ocean. You are the entire ocean, in a drop.  Would anyone dispute that it is easier to be content with silence, solitude, and simplicity on a beautiful fall day? Science support that mood swings improve when the sun is out. But the goal, at least my goal, is to settle into deep contentment regardless of the weather. I can love ‘a’ rainy day if ‘a’ means one. But even then, a tiny pall sneaks in.
These days I am aware that whatever I write comes from a privileged position. That’s who I am, but it doesn’t mean I want to shake it off and go forth on my merry way. Let me never forget that I’m in a cozy house on a rainy day!! Remembering is a both trivial and powerful. Trivial if I take if for granted; powerful if I find ways to be grateful. |
